


Most People Do

by ponchard



Series: More Dalish Tales [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Animal Characters With Goofy Names, Animal characters - Freeform, Aw Yeah Dagger Fighting, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Daggers, Dalish Elves, Dalish Lore, Dalish Mistellings, F/M, Fleas, Gen, Inaccurate Legends, It's Not The Power Imbalance You're Thinking Of, Loyalty, More Dalish Tales, One Shot, Power Imbalance, Protectiveness, Rebellion, The Key To A Good Animal Legend Is Weird Names, Wolves, nope - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9846509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponchard/pseuds/ponchard
Summary: More Dalish Talesis a series of one-shots. In each installment, Old Auntie Lavellan tells a story about a different set of elven gods. Like all the best legends, they're full of questionable history and bad life lessons.Previously, Auntie Lavellan has tolda story about the twins,a story about Andruil and Elgar'nan, anda story about June, Mythal, Ghilan'nain, and Sylaise.Hmmmm. Who else could shepossiblyhave a story about?





	

"People are dying outside, while we stand here. If we use the tunnel, more of our soldiers can flee."

Neither Solas nor Morrigan stirred, looking to the Inquisitor.

"Right, slow down and give the baddies a chance. That's fair. And dumb! If we're going in, let's get in!" For once, Sera didn't seem to notice that she was agreeing with Cole.

Auntie Lavellan looked from face to face. Her most practical friend. The spirit who could read minds. And Solas. Eager, earnest Solas. Solas, who could not _possibly_ have dreamed in this ancient temple. She dangled her feet into the crack and jumped down. "Come on."

"I fear we will regret this, Inquisitor." He had grown more and more superstitious, the deeper they'd gone into the temple. Artifacts had that effect, sometimes. The least devout hunters would fall all over themselves revering the Creators, when carved on a favorite bracelet or shield. 

The only artifacts that Auntie revered were trophies. Symbols of victory over worthy foes. She had trophies from beasts, from soldiers, even from dragons. Bones, hide, hair. If she ever met a god, perhaps she would honor them too.

"The Creators are patient, my boy. We'll pay respects when the temple is secure."

Sera, Cole, and Morrigan dropped in behind Auntie Lavellan. After a pause, Solas came down too.

"This is serious."

"Exactly. Help me deal with this sentinel." She slipped into the shadows, blades at the ready.

Solas slammed a piece of the fade into the ground, knocking the sentinel off his feet. Reluctantly, he chased it with lightning, standing back to back with Morrigan. Sera buzzed around, barely visible, as Cole put in a finishing thrust.

"That day, they shimmered, like Fade visions." Cole spun to stab another sentinel. "Friends and neighbors, everyone an imitation of themselves. Nothing changed. So suddenly, nothing changed! Changed, changed, cruel and fearful, even their pasts redrawn in new ink. Why do they still look the same?" He slashed the attackers on both sides of him, letting them fall.

"Auntie-" said Cole, as the Inquisitor pulled her dagger out of a sentinel's armpit. "Can you tell the story with the fleas?"

The sentinel slid to the ground. "I don't think they want to hear a story right now." She looked significantly at Solas, who'd retreated to a serene expression. Sera's disinterest went without saying.

"The children squirm in their seats, ready to play." Cole said. "Stories are for keepers and old wrinkled walnuts like Auntie. _They_ can remember them."

Lavellan walked into the corridor, listening for the next cluster of enemies. There were erratic footfalls a few rooms over, no sustained rhythm. Likely standing, not running. 

She adjusted her grip on her daggers, carefully stepping over the body beside her. They had attacked her people. They had not fought well. She took no tokens, no finger bones, no hair. They had scarcely earned the right to die.

 

 

 

 

Wait a second. Auntie. _Auntie!_ What are you doing? 

I've established the format for these stories! You do some scene-setting, **you tell a story** , then you return back to the present. It's the entire premise of _More Dalish Tales!_ You were supposed to-

But Cole even gave you a-

*sigh*

She never was a very _cooperative_ Inquisitor. Well, I promised you guys a story, so I guess I'm telling it? Cole wanted the one with the fleas, right? Let's see... ah, here it is. "Fen'Harel Had Five Fleas".

Now. How would she have told it? "In the dark days before, while the people fled falling Arlathan, there lived a little flea named Mellimim."

Mellimim lived with her cousins: Arillin, Terevin, Lem Lem, and Norahil. Together the flea-cousins leapt, and together they landed; landed on the Dread Wolf's hide.

Compared to him, they were nothing but specks, so he scarcely noticed their arrival. Hop, hop, hop, went the little fleas, searching for a place to sup. Lively Arillin settled first, nestling herself on Fen'Harel's side. There she bit him, drinking deep. 

"Oho!" said the wolf, "what is this?" and he turned his head around. Arillin drank, sucking at the vein, for she was very hungry. Soon enough the Dread Wolf's nose loomed over her. "I am Arillin, and I must eat" she said, between sips. "Surely a beast as large as yourself could not begrudge such a small meal."

"You make me itch," said Fen'Harel. And without another word, he clapped his jaws around her!

This sent the other fleas into a flurry, for they did not want to share Arillin's fate. When they had calmed, bold Terevin spoke. "O great beast, we are sorry that Arillin was so impolite!"

"Indeed," the wolf rumbled. "It is generous of me to keep you at all, after such an affront."

"Not to worry," piped the bold flea Terevin. "We will no longer act so shamefully. Tell us where we may eat, so that you will suffer the least irritation. We promise to be as soft as brushing leaves, from now on!"

Fen'Harel's forehead folded up tight. He was disturbed that these strange creatures had landed on his hide without asking. But he was also curious about their ways. _What if they prove useful?_ At any rate, they were so small that he could easily remove them later. So he relented. "Very well. The skin around my tail is very tough, and will feel no teeth. If you must eat, eat there."

Terevin hopped with delight, bouncing all the way to his tail. True to her word, she pricked him ever so gently, barely piercing his thick hide. And true to his word, the Dread Wolf's tail was tough, and he could not feel her presence. Still, she took great pains not to injure him in the slightest, hopping to a new vein whenever she felt she had spent too long in one place. Around and around and around she jumped, circling his tail many times over.

In due time, Fen'Harel cast his eyes back, to see what Terevin was doing. To his horror, his sleek tail was covered in bumps, fur ruffled helter-skelter. "What have you done?" said the wolf to bold Terevin. "My tail is in ruins! How shall I carry out my schemes, when everyone is laughing at my tail?" Now, the Dread Wolf had not spoken to anyone else since the fleas had arrived, much less anyone offended by his tail. Nevertheless, he was a fastidious creature. He liked to have everything in order before preying upon the people.

"I am sorry!" cried Terevin, "I will give you time to heal!"

"No need," the wolf growled. And he banged his tail against a rock, squashing Terevin flat!

Now, this alarmed the other fleas even more. Still, they were hungry. After a few days in silence, they could bear it no longer. Quiet Lem Lem spoke up. "O great beast, we would like one more chance. Terevin was as soft as a brushing leaf, but she was not as subtle. Where may we bite so that we will not mark your soft pelt?"

The Dread Wolf sighed. In the days since Terevin's death, he had hoped the fleas were gone. Yet here they were again, disturbing his hunt. "You are fortunate I cannot find you, foolish creature. And more fortunate still, for it behooves me to grant sound advice. If you are void-bent on biting me, then bite my belly, for my hide there is loose. Furthermore, no one will see the hideous bites. Now go, and bother me no more!"

At that, Lem Lem crept soft, soft, softly onto Fen'Harel's belly, and there she latched on. She bit him even more softly than Terevin, like the holding-stems around tender petals. Gentle Lem Lem was careful not to hop around as Terevin had, keeping herself out of sight. In this way, Lem Lem drank as she wished, and the Dread Wolf could forget her presence. And so both were satisfied. 

Once his tail had recovered, Fen'Harel went on a hunt, stealing from many unwary clans. In those days, few keepers knew of the Great Betrayal, for Arlathan had fallen so recently, and in such great confusion. On top of this, the magisters' pursuit kept clans from meeting one another, to share what they had learned. Keeper after keeper let the Dread Wolf pass, not realizing his treacherous nature. For how could someone have bad intentions, with such a glorious tail?

When he had taken his fill, the great wolf stretched himself, paw-tip to paw-tip. He marked out his domain, padding around all the edges. Pleased to find no one had followed him, he curled up and laid down to sleep, utterly content. As he slept, he rolled onto his belly. Yes, all the way he rolled, crushing Lem Lem to bits!

At once, Norahil and Mellimim came together. "Arillin, Terevin, and Lem Lem have failed," hissed brave Norahil. "Only we remain. Clearly we have gotten nowhere by speaking to the great beast. We must fight!"

This did not please tiny Mellimim, who was not so brave as her cousin. "How will we fight someone so large?" she whispered back. "If we prove bothersome, he will dispatch us in an instant."

"Perhaps one of us," Norahil said, "but what if we split his attention? Here, I will bite from his right haunch, and you, go to his left. As he turns to deal with one, the other must bite him in turn, pulling him away. He may snap to the left and to the right, but he will be too distracted to find either one."

The plan still frightened tiny Mellimim, but Norahil was very insistent. Besides, Mellimim had not eaten in all the days since they had landed on Fen'Harel, and she was ravenous. So Mellimim hopped over to the Dread Wolf's haunch, taking a place opposite her cousin. 

"Now! Bite!" cried brave Norahil, piercing the wolf's skin with her teeth. She was nowhere near as polite as Terevin and Lem Lem, biting hard. The great wolf bolted up with a whine. Mellimim bit down too, keeping a keen eye on Fen'Harel's reactions. Immediately, he reached toward one flea, then the other, scratching and gnawing at his own skin. But with both haunches itching at once, he writhed around wildly, unable to find the fleas' locations. The wolf tired very quickly. He soon stopped, tongue beating in and out.

"It's working!" Norahil said, between bites. "See, this is what we had to do all along." Mellimim stayed silent, watching for any signs of danger. The fleas do not tell stories of Fen'Harel, like we do. But she had seen enough with her own eyes. She knew the Dread Wolf to be resourceful and vicious, and she feared Norahil did not understand his ways.

Sure enough, the great beast began walking, and Mellimim could see where he was headed. As the winds began to rise, Norahil saw too. "We must bite harder! We must keep his thoughts from joining one to another! If he reaches the river, we are both doomed!" And she tore into Fen'Harel with even more vigor. "I am biting as hard as I can, dear cousin!" shouted Mellimim. Once she had spoken, she pulled away. Quick as she could, little Mellimim began hopping up the wolf's spine. 

At this, the Dread Wolf half-turned toward his left haunch, unsure whether he should stop. _Perhaps I am imagining this, but one side is itching more than the other._

"Good!" said Norahil, "I can see him wavering! Keep biting!" Mellimim stayed silent, for she did not want either wolf or Norahil to know that she had left her post. Instead, she hopped up, up, up his spine, all the way to his neck. Meanwhile, he had reached the shore, and began wading into the water. Up, up, up, higher still climbed little Mellimim, until she reached the tippy-top of the Dread Wolf's ear. She made not a sound, afraid that even the tickling of her feet would give her away. The wolf waded deeper, deeper, water lapping over his paws, his legs, his shoulders. At last, the water covered every part of him, save his nose and his ears.

Fen'Harel stood in the water until the sun set. When he bounded up to shore, only little Mellimim still lived.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> If you enjoyed _More Dalish Tales_ , you might also like [They Are All Real](http://archiveofourown.org/series/317204), which highlights different minor NPCs from Origins, II, and Inquisition.


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